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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28858563">Pretty Boy</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/tearyangel/pseuds/tearyangel'>tearyangel</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst and Humor, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, How Do I Tag, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I'm Bad At Tagging, Light Angst, M/M, Prince Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Royalty</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 05:14:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,701</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28858563</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/tearyangel/pseuds/tearyangel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A certain boy unexpectedly becomes the Prince's servant after insulting him only hours before. Still, the two refuse to get along; though this must change for the sake of their own lives.</p><p>𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘺 𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘴, “𝘩𝘢. 𝘞𝘩𝘰 𝘥𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦? 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘒𝘪𝘯𝘨?” </p><p>“𝘕𝘰.” 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘮𝘭𝘺. 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘢 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘨 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘱 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘦𝘴, “𝘐’𝘮 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘯.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>103</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. A Prince</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hi (:<br/>I started writing this idea at midnight, and decided I'd go with it and see how it turns out. I'm pretty sleep deprived, so the writing may be a little sloppy. If that's the case, I apologise lol.</p><p>Anyway, I hope you enjoy regardless! I'm excited to see how this one goes!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The bright sun glares down onto the cobblestone floor, causing it to subtly glint in the light. The atmosphere would have been peaceful if it weren’t for the townspeople who seemed to have a knack for disturbing the silence. Dream slumps his shoulders, kicking a loose pebble along the path as he drowns out the hustle of the town. A typical Thursday; busy streets as the market stalls become occupied, having just restocked hours before, and large groups of impatient people looking to get the first picks at the food while it’s fresh. Occasionally, he would be one of those people; attempting to grab the tastiest looking apples while he still had a choice to pick from. However, most of the time, he avoided the commotion. Apples, his favourite fruit, are usually gone by midday anyway- he’d just have to bother somebody until they gave him theirs.</p><p>As he begins to get lost among his own thoughts, Dream’s attention is drawn to the guy beside him calling his name. He raises an eyebrow in question, turning to face the guard who only repeats his previous question- something to do with his opinion on a food of some kind. Dream shrugs in response, deciding to head down the quickest route out of the conversation. As he turns his head to refocus his eyes on the ground, an object connects with the side of his torso before falling to the floor. Confused, Dream looks down to find a boy- who’s scowling back up at him in irritation.</p><p>“Watch where you’re going.” The blonde states carelessly, his eyes not leaving the other as he climbs to his feet. He can’t help but watch the boy as he collects his bags which had been sprawled out onto the floor after colliding with Dream and dropping them. Brown eyes stare back at him, his eyebrows drawn into a frown.</p><p>The boy sighs, dusting himself off, “what use would that be.” He pauses, stepping closer to the other. “If you don’t also watch where <em>you're</em> going.”</p><p>Dream’s curiosity about the boy peaks at the sound of his accent, but he narrows his eyes in retaliation, “<em>you</em> walked into <em>me</em>.”</p><p>“I did not! You came out of nowhere and stepped into me.” The brunette spits in accusation, throwing his arms up in frustration. He’s considerably smaller than Dream in height, the blonde towering over him with ease; causing a sense of intimidation, though he doesn’t show it.</p><p>“My mistake.” Dream says in false sincerity, tilting his head as he glares at the boy in front of him. “I didn’t realise you were <em>blind</em>.”</p><p>The other boy scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief, but doesn’t say another word toward Dream, but this only further amuses him. “Oh, did you have something to say, pretty boy?” He questions mockingly, sarcasm lacing his tone as he coos at the other.</p><p>“Not really.” He stutters in response to his nickname, even if it were just to tease him. “Talking to idiots like you seems to ruin my day.”</p><p>The blonde chuckles in amusement, something about this boy intrigues him with every sentence he speaks. He puts his hands up defensively, but drops them back to his sides as he speaks again, oozing with confidence. “I could do a lot more than bump into you to ruin your day.”</p><p>“So you admit it.”</p><p>Dream cocks his brow, his smug expression fading. “Hm?”</p><p>“<em>You</em> bumped into <em>me</em>.” The other says, the hint of a proud smile on his lips. “You just said it.”</p><p>Shaking his head, the blonde rolls his eyes in attempts to hide the playful smirk he’s sporting. This boy is definitely something. He’s bold, much bolder than anyone he’s spoken to in a long time; and he finds it most entertaining. The guards shove one another, fighting the urge to laugh at the two.</p><p>“You must have a lot of nerve talking to me like that.” Dream notes, the anger he held from before vanishing into thin air.</p><p>The boy scoffs, “ha. Who do you think you are? <em>The King?” </em></p><p>“No.” The blonde states firmly. His smile lifting into a smug one and his cockiness seems to drip from his words as he continues, “I’m his son.”</p><p>The other boy laughs loudly at this, doubling over to sell the act. Within seconds, the guards are by his side, holding his arms in a tight grasp and awaiting further instructions. His laughter dies down, though he still doesn’t buy it. Looking at the blonde as if he had grown two heads, he doesn’t say another word, unsure how honest the other is being.</p><p>“Hold on.” Dream says, waving a hand dismissively and the guards seem to loosen their grip but they refuse to completely let go of the other. “You’re the most intriguing person I've had the misfortune of talking to in weeks.” He admits, not taking his eyes off the boy as he takes a small step forward.</p><p>“And you, the most idiotic.” The brunette shoots back, trying to subtly wriggle free of the guard’s grasp on his arm, but failing. “I didn't know the Prince would be such an ass.”</p><p>“Excuse me?” Dream questions in disbelief, chuckling in shock at the other’s words. “Perhaps I should have you arrested.”</p><p>The guards finally release the boy, and he stumbles back onto his feet before fixing his bags back onto his shoulder. He sighs dramatically, crossing his arms over his chest. “Well, that doesn’t seem fair.”</p><p>“No? You insulted a Prince!” The blonde exclaims informatively, an amused smile on his lips.</p><p>The other squints, raising his hand over his eyes as if to search for something, “oh, I did? Where is he?”</p><p>A few snorts come from the guards as they fight laughter, this whole situation being something they’re not used to witnessing. They stand still in disbelief at how Dream is being treated by this stranger- yet they can’t help but find it slightly funny. Alt<span>hough the blonde, too, finds this a little amusing, he can’t fight the irritation which bubbles silently in his throat. A part of him wants to take a liking to this boy, but the other part wants him dead. He shouldn’t be allowed to talk to him like that, he should face some sort of consequence.</span></p><p>
  <span>The boy’s humorous cockiness actually starts to seep into Dream’s skull. He is of high power, somebody like </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span> shouldn’t be talking down to a Prince. He finds it annoying he has the confidence to stand there and insult him like that; but he decides he'll let it slide. Next time, though, he won't be let off the hook so quick. </span>
</p><p>
  <span><em>Next time</em>, he won't be so lucky. Dream's mood is light today, and he can't promise this will always be the case. Perhaps, <em>next time</em>, he should simply arrest the boy. </span>
</p><p>“Give me your name.” The blonde demands abruptly as he fixes his posture.</p><p>The other tuts, “if you’re a Prince, you should be able to find out yourself.”</p><p>Before the Dream gets to say another word, the boy darts away, camouflaging easily in the crowd of the townsfolk. He sighs, looking at the guards, however they shake their heads at him as if to say they don’t know the boy’s name either. He shrugs, choosing to continue on with his day, and perhaps try to figure it out later- or even try to find him again.</p><p>With the guards hot on his tail, the blonde begins his journey through the town, stopping when he reaches a wooden gate. He opens it with ease, allowing the group to enter the premise and he closes it firmly behind him, following the guys into the clear area. After a few minutes of quick stretching, Dream walks into the middle of the spacious field, which had been altered to create the perfect area for training. He draws his sword, the sound of metal scraping against metal echoes through the air as the first guard steps up. Within minutes, Dream is atop of the other, the sharp edge of his sword threatening the guard’s life. The blonde chuckles to himself, he knew he’d win. Even while his mind is preoccupied with a newfound curiosity about a stranger he’d just met; he still had the upper hand in battle.</p><p>As a prince, it is expected of him to be a high ranking knight, fighting should be in his blood. Luckily for Dream, it is. He quite enjoys fighting. There’s never much to do around the town, and the castle he lives in gets tedious, so in order to keep himself entertained, he has to find his own things to do. One of the many things he does to pass time is training. Fortunately, he loves fighting, especially the adrenaline that comes with it, which only helps him become a more worthy Prince.</p><p>More commonly, Dream practices on his own, using a wide range of different techniques as he battles his own bedroom walls, but on Thursdays, most of the guards are in town, which is very close to this training area. So every Thursday, the Prince will practise fighting with as many guards as he can, and when they’ve had enough, they’ll swap positions with the guards who patrol the busy town. It’s a nice routine, and increasingly helpful to the Prince, who gets to use plenty of different skills in combat with the guards. However, this is purely for fun.</p><p>As the Prince, he is provided with many opportunities, such as official training with much more skilled fighters than the guards. These training sessions take place each Saturday, and are mandatory for Dream as they were ordered via the King. These fighters can be a real challenge, but with the amount of practice he does every day, the Prince always comes out on top.</p><p>The reasoning behind having to fight with men much older and tougher than Dream is simply because he is royalty. "<em>And royalty,"</em>  his father had told him growing up, “<em>can’t be weak</em>.”</p><p>Though there was a time, when Dream was merely a teenager, that he could never win a fight with these other fighters. Not because he lacked the strength, but because he hated doing as he was told- and perhaps he still does. He’d let the others win, and simply shrug at his father who would later discipline him. But he grew up to like fighting, and eventually obliged to his Princely duties, though some of those habits never faded from those teenage years. Every now and again, Dream will still sneak out after his curfew, or flirt with the townsfolk- even though he’s only supposed to do that with Princesses. Breaking rules still proved to be one of his favourite pastimes, even if he gets caught.</p><p>Being a Prince isn’t always as great as it sounds, Dream secretly longs for the day he’ll be able to walk beyond this town without an armed guard by his side. Or the day when he’ll be allowed out past 11pm. Or perhaps the day he can finally make a friend-<em> a real friend.</em></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. A Servant</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>George becomes a servant, and almost feels guilty over the words he spoke to the Prince a day before.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Noon washes over the horizon, a comfortable tranquillity settling in and replacing the busy mornings. Hurried footsteps turning into casual strolls as dainty shops scattered throughout the town begin to relax as midday arrives. The sun beams brilliantly onto the ground below, casting shadows in awkward places and illuminating everything else. The light shines through castle windows, reflecting onto the dust which floats idly through the air.</p><p>The red carpet grows warm in the heat of the sun, tinting it a lighter colour as it dries the pigment within, causing it to become a salmon pink due to its age and the hot summer temperatures. Now it looks old, packed with grit and mud stains which Dream had probably walked in after long hours of training in the dirt.</p><p>The prince lets out a frustrated sigh, the sword in hand proving to be a challenge as he tries to sharpen it. The blade glimmers in the spotlight of the sun, signalling it has been polished to perfection to the blonde, but he pays no attention as he’s far too focused on fixing the blunt edge of the metal.</p><p>A knock on the thick oak door interrupts him as it echoes through his large room, and he lies his sword gently onto his bed as he beckons for the stranger to enter.</p><p>“Sir.” The guard greets, nodding slightly toward Dream. “The King would like a word with you.”</p><p>This statement earns another sigh from the blonde, but he wonders what could be so important. Without bothering to thank the guard, he leaves, and makes his way into the common room. Upon arriving, he notices his father standing up straight, a stern look on his face. For a moment, Dream begins to think his father may have caught him sneaking out, although he doesn’t remember when he last did this, but exhales a breath of relief at his father’s first words.</p><p>“Good news, my son.” The King announces as he spots the blonde, thus resolving any dread he held to the thought that he might’ve gotten caught breaking rules. “We managed to arrange for you to have a new servant.”</p><p>Dream hesitates, his breath hitching in his throat at the mention of a servant, but he forces a smile akin to the one on his father’s face. He’s grateful that the King went through such efforts, but a part of him didn’t want to accept. The idea of having some useless servant follow him around like a lost puppy didn’t sound appealing to him- he compared the thought of a servant to something more like being stuck with an irritating mosquito.</p><p>This whole situation annoyed Dream, but he’d have to cope, for now. He looks at his father, who nods, and within seconds, a boy walks into the room.</p><p>The boy looks up to the King, bowing his head in acknowledgement. “Sire.”</p><p>“This is George.” The man says, a proud expression on his face as he looks at his son.</p><p>The boy, George, finally looks over at the blonde, and his face twists into one of shock and then of embarrassment. The Prince fights the urge to laugh at the look of horror the other is showing. A moment of silent passes as the two stare at another in a mix of anger, amusement and guilt.</p><p>Dream finally shrugs, taking short steps toward the door. “At least I’ll have somebody to polish my armour.”</p><p>He continues walking outside and George follows him silently. Once away from the King’s ears, he scowls at the blonde. “I didn’t think you were <em>actually</em> a Prince.” He states defensively.</p><p>“Shouldn’t you apologise?” He questions, not stopping to face the other. His tone is much different to yesterday’s. Today, it is firm, all sense of humour gone.</p><p>“You're still an idiot.” George whispers. “Just a royal one.”</p><p>Dream halts, turning around to face the boy. “My armour is in the armoury, it’s not hard to miss.” He states, tossing a key at the other. “I want it polished by tomorrow morning.”</p><p>The brunette pauses, dumbfounded and left wondering if he’s being serious- though he can’t help but to ask, “where are you going?”</p><p>The Prince continues through the long corridor, attempting to dismiss his new servant. “I have plans.”</p><p>His footsteps echo, bouncing off the walls as he advances through the empty castle. The same depressing, salmon coloured carpet from his bedroom covers the wooden floor of the corridor, Dream quickly growing to despise the way it looks. He trudges along the ground, ignoring the walls which are decorated with huge, expensive paintings and candles wrapped in gold. He remembers a time when these dull corridors looked lively, bursting with colour as the young Prince would run up and down them playing with toys he had found. Now they look as if they’re rotting away, mature and dusty from years of stillness. Elegant wallpaper peeling away from the walls, weeping in sorrow as if their heads were bowed in sadness, further tearing apart from the structure. Small cracks run along the ceilings as if it’d fall apart any minute now. He hated it, all of it.</p><p>The blonde drags his feet across the ground as he exits his castle and heads into town which has almost become sparse. He was thankful for the lack of people, because he doesn’t remember too well the appearance of the lady he had planned to meet with. A short distance away, a woman around the same age as Dream stands alone, waving and tapping her foot excitedly at the sight of the Prince. He flashes her a charming smile in return, greeting her fondly.</p><p>The blonde gets closer, waiting as she bows her head slightly. Sometimes, he wishes he could be more informal with people- greeting everybody and having to smile as they bow to him just didn’t please the Prince. At times, he likes the gesture, as it makes him feel superior and well respected. Though often, he finds himself jealous of the other townsfolk, who frolic around carelessly, not having to worry about the possibilities of being targeted like he does. Everybody else always seemed so relaxed and happy when meeting one another, smiling and laughing, leaving the town as they please; whenever they like.</p><p>The Prince would never be so lucky, his life wasn’t made for frolicking around with his friends or living a carefree life. His life was made for strict rules, curfews and the eager eyes of those who look up to him.</p><p>Dream begins conversing with the lady, smiling as she giggles with every sentence that falls from his lips. He begins walking through town with her hanging off his shoulder, a light blush on her cheeks as she flirts with the Prince. He relishes in the attention, gazing into her eyes as they wander around- a guard a distance away, keeping a close eye on the two.</p><p>Hours fly by, and shades of orange and pink seep into the sky as the sun begins to set. A gentle yellow glow emits from various light sources scattered throughout the town, the streets becoming increasingly desolate as a cause. Quiet footsteps quicken as night creeps up on them, cheerful tones growing tired with each word spoken by the townspeople.</p><p>The town’s flags ripple delicately in the shy breeze that whisks throughout the air. The ghostly wind creating goosebumps on the skin of anybody it passes, causing each of them to shudder slightly. Occupied houses which scatter around illuminate the cobblestone path outside with the lights they share with the night. The castle walls glint in the dim lights, attracting the attention of the Prince as he says his farewells to the lady.</p><p>They exchange a few hushed whispers, giggling as they wave one another goodbye. The lady looks at the flowers she holds in her hands adoringly, which the Prince had gifted, or stolen, for her earlier on. As she begins her journey home, she gasps silently upon realising she forgot to thank him. She spins, her footsteps echoing through the quiet street as she catches back up to the blonde, lighting tugging the fabric of his clothing to grab his attention without scaring him. He turns to face her, an expression of surprise on his face as she steps closer.</p><p>“Thank you.” She says simply, a shy smile written on her face as he nods back at her.</p><p>As she turns to head away again, she bumps into someone she hadn’t seen previously. She mutters a curt apology, before dashing toward the village and into the night. The two boys are left alone, the atmosphere delving into silence for a moment until the lady’s footsteps can no longer be heard.</p><p>“Ah, your<em> plans”</em>  The boy notes a strange and suggestive tone in his voice. Dream sighs at the sound of his servant, already despising him. He snickers at the Prince’s reaction before jogging to catch up to the man who had started walking away. He clears his throat as he reaches the other’s side. “Your armour has been polished. You’re welcome.”</p><p>Dream glares at the boy beside him, dipping his head lower to meet his eyes. “I didn’t thank you.”</p><p>“You should have.” He replies, a playful smile on his face while the other scoffs. This comment irritated the blonde greatly, he’s the King’s son!</p><p>The Prince’s eyes seem to darken, venom dripping from his words as he speaks. “And<em> you</em> should address me formally.”</p><p>George doesn’t say a word, his smile dropping at the other’s tone and silently wishing he never approached the other.</p><p>“Fine.” Dream states, shrugging. “I take it your schedule is clear, then?”</p><p>The brunette frowns, mumbling a short, “I guess.”</p><p>The Prince turns again to look at the other, his expression threatening as he waits. A short silence washes over the boys, the two slowly coming to a halt as they stare at once another.</p><p>Finally, George sighs. “I guess...Your highness.” He says begrudgingly, correcting his previous sentence. The blonde gives him a curt smile, even though the title had been expected from his servant from the moment they met. It’s expected from <em>everybody</em> of lower status to regard the Prince with those words of respect; ‘your highness.’</p><p>“Great.” Dream says nonchalantly, walking past an empty market stall full of various fruits and finds he just can’t help himself. He leans over, plucking a red apple from one of the baskets and he rubs it on his shirt to polish it. “The stables are dirty, you can begin cleaning them whenever you please.”</p><p>The brunette stutters, unsure if the Prince is being serious.</p><p>“They’re pretty gross.” He announces smugly, satisfied with the other’s expression as he tosses the apple into the air before catching it again and he begins to walk away. George watches his figure morph into a darkened silhouette as he walks further and further away. He stares in awe as he notices the figure take a bite from the fruit in his hand, yelling a short, almost dismissive, “Good luck!” With a mouthful of apple.</p><p>This voice bounces through the town, leaving the brunette stunned. He waits to see if the other will come back and inform him it was purely a joke- but the man never stops, or turns back around. Within minutes, the Prince is gone, and George is left standing by a crate full of apples in the dark and badly lit town. He slumps his shoulders, feeling defeated- Dream had made a fool out of him. He exhales deeply, feebly kicking a few loose rocks along the ground. They bounce gently against the cobblestone floor, making a pleasant sound. The slight breeze in the air grows colder, nipping at the surface of George’s skin though he’s too focused on staring at the ground to care.</p><p>His mind wonders how the next few days will play out; he, having to take orders from a man who seemingly ‘despises’ him, though he’s beginning to feel the same way. He grows curious about him though, why is his attitude so different from yesterdays? His mind wanders, momentarily thinking of ways to get out of the chores he deems too annoying. Such as cleaning the stables, for example. Is he really expected to do as the Prince orders?</p><p>A feeling of dread washes over him, and he can’t fight the thoughts which tell him Dream won’t stop with these absurd demands. He’ll continue making him look a fool, because that’s just what royalty is like. These tasks will grow worse and worse- just so the blonde can laugh at him.</p><p>Here, he decides to finally listen to his brain, which repetitively reminds him how awful Dream truly is. He decides the growing hatred he holds for the Prince has no excuse to die down, in fact, that hatred seems to grow stronger each time he thinks about the other.</p><p>Perhaps, he despises the Prince just as much as the Prince despises him.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Those two really don't like each other right now, huh.<br/>Anyways, I think I'll release a new chapter every other day, that way, I have time to write and vaguely edit (:</p><p>I usually honestly write these chapters late at night, which then quickly trickles into early mornings but I almost prefer it this way. </p><p>Regardless of that, I hope you enjoyed this second chapter!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Déjà Vu</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>George has noticed that some days, Dream is less hostile than others. This is one of those days.</p><p>The Prince chooses to answer to some of his servant's questions, rather than ignoring him as he usually would. Their conversations seem a little more pleasant, but this doesn't mean the two have stopped despising one another.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Soft pants escape the blonde’s lips as he catches his breath shortly after announcing to the group of men they could take a break. Dream has been training since seven am, and so far, he’s won every fight. He slumps against the wall, sliding down it as he sits on the floor. The air circulating around the room begins to feel sticky and warm, but he ignores it, taking a long sip of water. Suddenly, he feels the presence of another sitting beside him, startling him in the slightest but is put to ease upon seeing his servant. Like an annoying mosquito, he noted.</p><p>“Why are <em>you</em> here?” The blonde questions, George’s presence alone stirring irritation in his chest. “Don’t you have cleaning to do?”</p><p>The boy shrugs, and this careless action left a bitter aftertaste on the Prince’s tongue. “You said to start whenever. How long have you been at this?” He asks curiously, changing the topic swiftly.</p><p>“Since seven.” Dream mutters. He picks his sword up which had been lying at his feet and brings it to his face to examine the object he had seen a million times before. He runs a gentle finger across its edge, slow enough to avoid drawing blood. “Was there something you needed?”</p><p>George shakes his head, looking around the stuffy room packed with sweaty men of all ages, each holding a sword akin to Dream’s. “What exactly <em>is</em> all this?” He finds himself asking aloud after minutes of pondering.</p><p>“It’s private training.” He states simply, looking over at his servant. “Happens every Saturday.”</p><p>The other nods in understanding, and continues to look around at everybody else. They all seemed as if they could beat the Prince in a fight easily. Some extremely well built, some had scars littering their faces, and some just held a permanent frown which would intimidate George if he were ever left alone with them.</p><p>A short moment of silence washes over the two, before Dream decides to speak once again.</p><p>“Saturdays prepare me for Mondays.” He tells George, as if he were supposed to know what those words meant.</p><p><em>“Mondays?”</em>  He questions. Should he have already been made aware of what happens on Mondays?</p><p>“Big fight; the whole town comes to watch.”</p><p>George frowns, hesitating at his next question. “And what if you lose?”</p><p>The Prince seems amused by this, a cocky smile on his face as he begins standing up to continue training. “Oh,<em> George...</em>” He scoffs lightly, looking down at the other. He casually places the tip of the sword he’s holding underneath the brunette’s chin and tilts his head up to look at him. “I never lose.”</p><p>George doesn’t look convinced by his words, and he gulps painfully with the feeling of the cold blade against his flesh.</p><p>“If I lose, I die.” The Prince shrugs, dropping the sword from the other’s skin. As he begins walking back to the centre of the room, he mumbles something in a low tone, drawing his words out which are directed at his servant. “Don’t worry yourself, <em>pretty boy.</em> I’m good at what I do.”</p><p>The other boy scoffs, but Dream ignores it as he waits for one of the other men to join him in the centre to battle. A man decides to take him up on a fight, but the blonde has him pinned to the floor with a sword at his throat almost immediately. He grins down at the man he recognises, having trained with him a number of times before. The Prince stands, a proud smile on his face as he glances at the boy still sitting in the place he left him. George seems to smile back, impressed at the speed he managed to take down a man a little taller himself. Though, he’d never tell him of course; this would undoubtedly increase the man’s ego.</p><p>George secretly wonders what it’d be like to be in Dream’s place; a future King. He’s aware the role would be challenging, everybody watching your every move, you’d have no room to mess up. Everything you do would have an effect on the town as a whole, which is why there are such strict roles for those of royalty. The brunette imagines how he’d do as a Prince, and figures he’d be useless. That sort of life wasn’t meant for him- he couldn’t bear the weight of the world on his frail shoulders, unlike Dream. Though he despises the Prince with every fibre in his body, he can’t help but admire him a little, he’s strong. He had a sense of determination which George could never find within himself, and even though the blonde acts careless at times, he’d never be careless enough to put others at risk; and <em>that</em> is admirable.</p><p>He also finds himself wondering what it would have been like growing up as a Prince. Did he play with the King as a child? Did the King ever help him study? He couldn’t imagine the King playing with toys as a way to entertain his son, but it creates an amusing image in his mind. Did the Prince ever get bored? If so, how did he overcome that and pass the time? George had many questions regarding the blonde, he especially wanted to know what it’s really like being him. He’d never ask any of these, though, he wasn’t<em> that</em> curious.</p><p>Time passes, and night quickly falls over the town, busy crowds growing into silence as they find their way home to rest. The Prince sharpens his favourite sword in the solitude of his room as he glances outside, the night is welcoming. He rises from his worn out mattress and peers at the ground below his window. It glimmers in response to the bright moon which casts a pale light over the town.</p><p>It’s a little past Dream’s curfew, but he paid no mind to the time as he clambers swiftly out of his bedroom window with a mischievous grin on his face. He falls to the ground with a grunt, but lands on his feet as if he had done this a million times before. His shoes thud against the cobblestone as he jogs from the building, creating some distance, not wanting to get caught by a guard. When he’s far enough away, he looks back at the castle. The lights are out, leaving shadows in their place. Overgrown plants which climb and twist around the outside of the castle grow into dark silhouettes, along with everything else hidden from the light of the moon.</p><p>He watches for a moment, just to be sure one of the guards hadn’t spotted him. A few minutes pass which confirm he’s alone, so he begins toward the village. He strolls through the market first, making sure to grab a few apples from the unattended fruit stall. He continues his walk, eventually finding himself in the village as he takes a bite from his apple with a satisfied smile.</p><p>He mindlessly passes through the homes of the townspeople, entertained with the way each house begins turning off their lights. He smiles fondly at the silhouettes of random people through windows, and as his eyes are occupied watching shadows flit from room to room, something bumps into him. Annoyed, he glances down, only to be me met with a familiar set of eyes.</p><p>“Is this Déjà Vu?” The blonde muses, staring at the other.</p><p>George scrambles to his feet with a scowl. “This time it was your fault entirely, idiot.”</p><p>The Prince shrugs, taking another bite from his apple.</p><p>“Where are you going anyway? Did your <em>plans</em> call for you again?” He questions, referring to the time he met with a lady. The blonde finds the boy’s sour expression amusing, annoying him is growing fun.</p><p>He shakes his head, “I’m out here for fun.” Narrowing his eyes, his gaze turns into more of a glare. “And you’re not it, so get out of my way.”</p><p>George raises a brow at him, but his face remains a scowl. “I’m almost positive you’re not allowed out alone.”</p><p>“I’m not alone if you’re talking to me, am I?” Dream says, sarcasm dripping from his words as he listens to his words bounce off the walls and echo further into the village. He’d have to be a little quieter in case somebody recognised his voice.</p><p>A short silence washes over the two, aside from the sound of the blonde biting into his apple. The streetlights which litter the village flicker simultaneously, emitting a soft orange glow which doesn’t seem to be of much use. The village is mainly illuminated by the light of the night sky, and the dainty fairy lights which connect to the sides of buildings, stalls and supporting beams. It’s a pretty view, the bricks and stone glint occasionally.</p><p>George finally sighs, almost ready to completely end this pointless conversation. “Why would you break the King’s rules for fun?”</p><p>“You really wouldn’t get it.” He pauses, before fixating his eyes onto the other with an accusatory stare. “Why do you care anyway? Been keeping tabs on me?”</p><p>The brunette shakes his head, ignoring the other’s words. “Something tells me you get into a lot of trouble.”</p><p>Dream says nothing, carelessly munching on his apple and beginning to walk away. This earns him a scoff from George, who crosses his arms as he watches the distance between them increase with every step the blonde takes. He’s baffled at the way the Prince just left mid conversation, so casually. But he’s more so irritated at him, as he’s been left here, in the dark, alone, by this idiot- and he’s almost certain he’s doing it on purpose. With a deflated sigh, he begins walking back toward the direction of his home, already craving the comfort and warmth it provided. He’d just have to clean the stables in the morning, and evade the Prince for as long as he can.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hi, this chapter is a little shorter than I had originally hoped, but it took me so long to write this anyways. My future chapters should be longer, but I can't promise that as sometimes the will to write just seems to vanish entirely and it's super annoying. </p><p>I hope you enjoy it though! (:</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Your Highness</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>George thinks his day will be a pleasant, peaceful one- but somebody shows up, much to his dismay.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Noon finally rolls around, and George finds himself blissfully soaking up the warmth of the sun. The peaceful atmosphere surrounds him in a blanket of comfort, and it somewhat reminds him of his late teenage years. He had spent most of those days lying in the grass, humming gentle tunes to himself which would float delicately through the air and eventually he'd begin drifting off to sleep. Most nights, he’d wake up sunburnt from the many hours he’d been dozing in the sun, along with bumpy lines on his skin where he had been pressed against the grass- though he never seemed to mind as he continued this happy summer routine. A short moment of nostalgia settles upon him as he reminisces his earlier years in this town.</p><p>His life is much different now, though. </p><p>The Prince has been irritatingly demanding over the last few days, forcing him to do meaningless tasks seemingly just for the sake of doing them. Cleaning things which were already spotless, tidying rooms which were neat as usual, and running plenty of baths for the Prince who never seemed pleased with the temperature of the water; and would get poor George to refill it a dozen times which would only result in endless bickering. </p><p>
  <em>"It's still cold, you idiot!"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"How many more times are you going to make me do this?"</em>
</p><p>As expected, the two didn’t appear to be getting along. George sighs, not wanting to think of the blonde if he could help it.</p><p>He watches the soft clouds which float delicately and slowly across the sky as if they had been painted there. George had always loved watching clouds since he was a child, he always admired the way they morph into one another, creating all kinds of different shapes in such little time. He could only describe clouds in one word; beautiful. Along with the sky, of course, which seemed to adore them just as much as he does. </p><p>George exhales deeply as he mindlessly plucks small daisies and blades of grass from the dirt. His eyes flutter shut to further enjoy the sun rays which shines fondly down onto his flushed, porcelain face. He hears a bee buzzing behind him, and it brings a small smile onto his face. Opening one eye, he searches around for it, but it flies away before he gets to observe a working bee. He shrugs, and closes his eye once again and begins daydreaming almost immediately. </p><p>His daydreams were always filled with a sense of home, whether he dreams about his childhood; or possible future. On occasion, he’ll place himself in a world out of his reality, just like the books in the town’s library. He likes to place himself within the pages of a good story, he had grown up reading those fantasy books. Each word he reads in these stories creates a new place for him to go when he dreams. He’ll place himself inside the shoes of a character, and in a haze, imagine himself as if he were them. </p><p>These fantasy worlds also brought George much comfort, it’s as if he sits up in the clouds and watches while he ventures out into a new life. Some stories were more exciting than others, but they were all more thrilling than the life of his own, so he didn’t mind. </p><p>The blades of grass tickle his legs, but he ignores it. The hill he sits upon is located a short while away from town, yet he can still hear and see the people who scurry through the market. He watches the couple together, who look to be in a world of their own, and it almost fills George with hope. Two young children run through the crowd, loud laughter drifting through the air as they chase one another. George likes this town greatly, as everybody seems so happy on days like these, including himself.</p><p>Today has been peaceful, the Prince has been in a meeting of sorts since this morning, leaving George to finally have some time to himself.</p><p>Though, even when alone, the presence of Dream is still around. He never leaves George’s mind. On Monday, the long anticipated fight arrived, and the whole town gathered in the square to watch. The Prince fought many different kinds of men, yet still won with ease, never even coming close to losing. Of course, he bragged about this afterwards to the brunette, telling him he should have believed in him. Tuesday was full of those chores George hated, from cleaning the most random things, to polishing every single weapon in the weaponry. </p><p>Wednesday has been rather uneventful so far, but George finds comfort in finally being allowed to sit around. He wonders momentarily what the meeting with the Prince could be about, and why it’s taking so long, but these thoughts soon leave his mind as he feels the presence of another.</p><p>“Is there something wrong with your eyes?” </p><p>George wants to scoff at the familiar, infuriating voice of the Prince. He wishes the ground would just open up and swallow him whole, anything to remove himself from actually having to bear another conversation with him. Perhaps even delve back into the fantasy world in his dreams. He wants to ignore him, but knows he’ll end up in some kind of trouble if he does. </p><p>He clears his throat, resisting the urge to sigh aloud. “What do you mean, <em>Sir?”</em> </p><p>Dream steps closer to the boy sitting down in front of him. He gestures to the weapon in his hand, looking at it disapprovingly. “There are smudges all over this sword.”</p><p>“Wipe them off, then.” George responds without thinking, but he doesn’t try to take his words back. </p><p>The Prince raises a brow, stunned at his servants suggestion. “Is that not <em>your</em> job, pretty boy?”</p><p>The brunette cringes at the sarcasm in his voice, and knows he must be beyond annoyed at his previous words, but he’s far too stubborn to prove any sort of apology. “If I say no, will you fire me?”</p><p>Dream tuts, looking down at the boy. “If you say no, I’ll have you arrested.”</p><p>“Don’t tempt me.”</p><p>The prince turns the sword in his hand abruptly, pointing the tip of the blade at the other’s throat. This movement causes the flesh on George’s neck to tear slightly, drawing a drop of blood which trickles down his skin. He watches intently as a line of blood trails down toward the boy’s collarbone, and seeps into the fabric of his shirt. Dream smiles sweetly, looking down at the brunette who gulps as he uses the edge of the sword to lift his head. George’s eyes meet the other’s emerald ones as his chin tilts up with the cold blade which threatens his soft skin to split. </p><p>George’s eyes glance over the sword which remains in its dangerous position and he gulps, causing his throat to burn as his Adam's apple bobs against the tip of the weapon. He almost breaks out into a coughing fit, but he holds it in. If he moves, he’s sure more blood will fall from his neck, creating a bigger wound. Ignoring this, George narrows his eyes before lifting his hand and nudging the blade away as he draws his head back to avoid injury. He takes this time away from the weapon to clear his throat, but this escalates into a spluttering mess which only dies down when the tip of the sword is placed back against his neck. He scowls up at the other, hating the situation he’s stuck in.</p><p>He wants to mention how this situation also feels familiar, but he doesn’t take this as a moment to joke. “Get off me.” George chokes out, the blade hurting as he speaks.</p><p>Dream tuts, a cocky smile on his face as the other boy scowls at him. “Repeat that?”</p><p>“Get off me... <em>Your Highness</em>.” </p><p>The Prince lowers his blade with a satisfied smirk, and George takes this moment to get up and snatch the weapon from his hands. He wastes no time lunging at the other, and the two fall, with the brunette atop. They grunt as they hit the floor, and George holds the other down.</p><p>The blade is awkwardly positioned in between them, lightly pressed to Dream’s neck who only scoffs in response. “So you’re not as helpless as you look.” </p><p>George shakes his head, hiding the proud smile on his face as he holds the sword in place. </p><p>“But you’ve made a huge mistake.” The Prince informs him, frowning up at the smaller boy.</p><p>George grows curious quickly, and awaits further explanation, but he doesn’t say another word.  Annoyance prods at the brunette, who frowns in confusion, but within seconds, their positions are switched. Dream smiles down at the other as he uses his weight to press him to the floor. The sword in George’s right hand, which the Prince has pinned to the floor above his head, remains useless and immovable.  </p><p>With Dream’s other hand, he holds a small dagger, and he holds it against the other’s throat once again. He smiles smugly, watching as fresh blood slides across his skin and drops into the grass below them. His eyes trail down to the floor, letting himself observe the blades of grass which stain with droplets of George’s blood. </p><p>“Never keep a weapon in plain sight unless you’re prepared to use it.”</p><p>The brunette frowns, seeming to not understand the other’s words. </p><p>“It gave me an opportunity to take it.” The blonde shrugs carelessly, not taking his eyes off the grass.</p><p>George widens his eyes in realisation. “Wait...My dagger?” </p><p>Dream nods in confirmation, causing the other to groan in frustration. The Prince’s face lights up in slight amusement, winking at the boy who seems to only grow more irritated. </p><p>Moments go by, nothing but the sound of distant townspeople is heard and the occasional bird. George is sure the other is cutting off the circulation to his fingers and the brunette can’t feel his hand with the tight grasp the other has on it. With his left hand, he pushes feebly at the heavy blonde, but he doesn’t budge. After agonising minutes, the Prince finally sighs. </p><p>Dream dips his head next to George's ear, his voice dangerously low and dripping with venom. “I could kill you right here.”</p><p>George’s heart skips a beat; he was already aware of that. “You could kill me whenever you please.” The brunette admits aloud, after mentally comparing the difference in their strength and skill. </p><p>He’s a Prince, of course he could kill the other, who has next to no experience in fighting. </p><p>Dream chuckles deeply, shaking his head slightly as his eyes finally meet George’s. The Prince can’t help but repeat the other’s earlier words back to him, in a condescending yet threatening tone. <em>“Don’t tempt me.”</em></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading this chapter! If you have any criticism, let me know! I'm always happy to hear your opinions on my work and find out where I could improve!</p><p>I took a short break from writing and stuff as I've not been feeling too great, and I intend for my 'break' to continue after this update, so I'm not sure when a new chapter will come out, my apologies. Though I'm sure it won't be too long. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this one! (:</p><p>Also, thank you for any and all of your support. It means a lot! &lt;33</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Cloaked Figures</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Dream has become used to these weekly events, as they prove to be far too easy for him, however when a stranger proves to be a worthy opponent, this changes.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi!</p><p>First of all, I'm so sorry for my lack of updates recently, this chapter has taken a while to get out, my apologies. </p><p>Secondly, this chapter might seem a little sloppy, as I haven't written in so long, but hopefully it's okay. </p><p>Anyways, enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>His heart thumps heavily as he shuffles through the large amount of people all crowded around the arena. At first, he decided he would travel to the front, as his height would mean anybody in front of him would block his view, however he gives up halfway through the crowd. The many people packed together means it would be impossible to fight his way to the front, this position would have to do. George is sure it wasn’t this crowded last week, there seemed to be hundreds more today.</p><p>Initially, George hadn’t planned to show up at all, but despite his efforts to get out of this, the Prince had forced him here anyway. George had argued with the boy the previous day for hours, as he didn’t feel like satisfying the Prince with his presence for this event after he had forced him into doing pointless tasks all week. He had made Dream’s bed at least a thousand times, because each time he did it, he would claim it “wasn’t good enough” and he would have to re-do it until it was perfect. Eventually, the Prince was called for a meeting, and so George made his escape, sweating from the chore. This, of course, wasn’t a one-off occasion. It seemed as though Dream enjoyed watching his servant suffer, and each time he’d argue back, the Prince would threaten him until he did it. </p><p>George can feel the body heat from the crowd surrounding him and it causes him to shift uncomfortably, his shirt clings to his body as he waits for the event to begin. Perhaps George is feeling a little claustrophobic, or maybe the crowd is duplicating in numbers, but there is undeniably a bigger group of people here than before and for some reason, this stirs nerves in George’s chest. </p><p>In front of him is a lady he recognises vaguely, he’s probably noticed her wandering through the market at some point. She’s chattering to a man on her right, who keeps gesturing toward the empty arena as if something incredible had happened, which it hadn’t. Behind George is a small family, who talk among themselves and usher the children to a spot with a better view. To George’s left is a tall man with a boy on his shoulders. He watches as the boy tugs excitedly on his father’s hair before giggling. The patches on his dirty trousers are enough to tell George he’s a little troublemaker. His eyes scan the people around him, and he spots somebody who doesn't seem to fit in. A hooded figure in some kind of dark cloak stood waiting near the front of the crowd. George finds himself growing curious at the figure, but manages to tear his eyes away. The hushed whispering and the impatient murmuring of the crowd put George on edge- he couldn’t imagine how the Prince would be feeling, though he figures he’s probably used to it.</p><p>Suddenly, everybody is silenced at the presence of somebody who walks to the centre of the arena before clearing his throat. He recognises the man as somebody who works with the Prince, as he’s seen him wandering around the castle many times before. He gives the usual announcement, and as he drones on, George can’t help wondering if he’s memorised some kind of script for this speech. After his announcement, a loud bell chimes to signal the beginning of the event. The man abruptly walks off, and is replaced by another.</p><p>A Knight.</p><p>The Prince’s first fight starts after noon, until then, it’s the Knights against anybody who challenges them. The crowd begins to clap, showing their respect and faith in the Knight. </p><p>He is soon joined by a man George hadn’t seen before, and the stranger waves to the crowd before setting up for the first battle of the day. He adjusts his armour, and grabs a few weapons from the side, which the Knight had already done. After he’s ready, a much quieter bell rings, and the fight begins. The stranger immediately raises his sword, and leaps toward the Knight who has clearly experienced this before, as he seems more than prepared to dodge the hit. The man’s sword misses the other, and his sword grazes the floor as the knight weaves around him. He manages to catch the man off guard as he swings his own sword into his torso. The man yells out as it hits him, and he spins to try another attack on the Knight which fails once again. The Knight knocks the man to the floor, his sword falling from his grasp and landing just out of reach. The Knight holds his sword to the other’s throat, and he surrenders almost immediately. The crowd erupts in cheers for the winner, who rises with his hands up. The stranger stands up after, and seems to try and calm himself down before readying himself for the next round.</p><p>Two rounds later, the clear winner is the Knight who definitely expected this outcome. The next person up is another Knight, and another fight commences. There is another victory, and he stands proud of this as the crowd cheers him on yet again.</p><p>The Knight who wins is to fight the Prince next, and he waits on the side, his leg bouncing up and down in anticipation. Two minutes go by, and the time is almost noon when the crowd begins to clap. The Prince proudly walks onto the arena, a smile playing at his lips as he nods his head to the crowd who seem to get louder before quieting down. The Knight from the previous fight comes back into view, shaking Dream’s hand before readying himself for the battle. He knows this one will be tougher than his last.</p><p>Time flies by, and already the Prince has the lead, winning two of the three rounds, however he decides to do one more. </p><p>The Prince’s hair clings to his forehead, which is surely covered in a layer of sweat. A few scratches sit on his face, barely noticeable except from the one next to his eye, which doesn't seem to faze him. George gulps as he watches the fight, but is eased once again as the Prince holds his triumph. The crowd roars, celebrating the Prince’s final win, and the Knight shakes his hand one again. </p><p>Dream pants heavily as they announce a new fighter would be joining him in the arena- his next challenge, a stranger. The week before, George remembers, the only men who stepped up to try to beat Dream were all inexperienced compared to him, and it made the fights look far too easy which the Prince grumbled about afterwards, claiming it was boring.</p><p>The crowd waits in slight anticipation as the stranger begins his way onto the arena, and George’s breath hitches in his throat at the sight of him. A cloaked figure, the same one as earlier, is challenging Dream to a fight? </p><p>The Prince frowns at the man’s appearance, but it fades as he joins him. The two shake hands, and Dream waits for the other to gear up. He picks up some sort of axe, and nods to signal that he’s prepared. The Prince nods at him and the bell chimes. The figure doesn’t give Dream any time to wait, he goes in swinging, almost knocking the Prince down. Dream ducks under the stranger’s arm, before landing a blow to his legs which results in the man falling. That all-too familiar cocky smile finds its way onto Dream’s face, and he swings down at the figure who dodges the hit at the last second. The crowd holds their breath as the fight goes on. </p><p>The figure somehow knocks Dream onto his back, their weapons clashing as he fights for survival. The blade of the man’s axe is drooping lower and lower, Dream’s sword not liking the connection. The cold surface of the axe makes contact with the flesh on the Prince’s throat, he struggles to push it away. George can feel his heart thumping heavily in fear. Just as it begins looking bleak for Dream, he lifts his legs to the other’s torso and kicks him. This unexpected response causes the figure to fall back, and before Dream can get up to finish the fight, the bell chimes a second time.</p><p>After this long battle, the announcer comes back on and deems it a draw. The crowd erupts into gasps and words of protest. </p><p>“Well if the fight had gone on, the Prince would have won, easy!” George hears somebody yell before the voices overlap one another until he can no longer make out what anybody’s saying. </p><p>The Prince rises to his feet, watching as the figure does so too. </p><p>“Finally, a worthy opponent.” Dream puffs, a small smile on his lips. He steps down, and around the crowd. He’s met by his father, who has a stern look plastered on his face.</p><p>“A <em>draw?</em> You had one job.” The King says, glaring at his son. “Do you realise how badly this will make us look if you lose? Your first loss in a public battle?” </p><p>Dream refuses to make eye contact. “I won’t lose.”</p><p>His father mutters something along the lines of, “you better not” before walking away and back to his seat, which is located above the arena so he can see down onto his son.</p><p>Dream scratches the back of his neck, before running a nervous hand through his hair. His eyes scan through the crowd before they settle on a pair of brown ones. He walks up to George, meeting him with a small smile. </p><p>George immediately admits how anxious he feels, his eyebrows drawn into a frown. “I know you’re stupid, but not this stupid. What if you die?”  </p><p>“Do you not have faith in me?” Dream mockingly gasps.</p><p>George raises a brow, “well-” </p><p>“I’ll only die if you stop believing in me,<em> pretty boy</em>.” The Prince winks at George before turning to walk onto the arena for the last round. </p><p>George finds himself unable to watch as five minutes go by and Dream finds himself in the same position as before, on his back with an axe at his throat. This time, however, the axe’s sharp blade slits the skin underneath it as it makes contact with it. Dream gasps at the cold edge, but tries not to show too much emotion.</p><p>While the figure is occupied trying to deepen the cut, Dream is struggling under the pressure but seems to have a plan. He subtly moves his hand to the right, his fingertips gentle pressing against something just out of reach. Dream fights the urge to choke as his fingers curl over the object, before grasping it tightly while moving ever so slowly. </p><p>Dream lulls his head to the side, his eyes clouding over as he tries to gasp for air. His fathers words are bouncing around inside his skull, hitting every surface but he doesn’t appear to care. In his mind, it’s too late. He looks physically defeated, which causes the crowd to deflate. <em>Their Prince is losing!</em></p><p>His lost eyes suddenly make contact with George’s, who must have shoved himself to the front of the crowd and his dull pupils begin to liven up. The cloud lifts, and his face seems to brighten as he stares at his servant. Seconds go by, and George’s heart is ready to leap out of his chest when the figure on top of Dream groans.</p><p>Confusion laces George’s features for a moment, before the stranger suddenly goes limp before falling off Dream. His eyes linger on George’s for a moment before falling onto the figure beside him. </p><p>It only clicks when George notices something lodged within the man’s stomach. Dream’s sword.</p><p>A dark pool of blood is already beginning to form but Dream stares upward, blankly. The announcer soon walks down onto the arena to announce Dream as the winner, and this seems to snap him out of his daze as he rises quickly from the floor. A frustrated sigh escapes Dream’s lips as he drags his heavy hands over his face. He shouldn’t have been that close to losing. He scowls at the body on the floor for a moment, before shaking his head and exiting the arena in a hurry.</p><p>By the time the King has come down, Dream is nowhere to be seen. George’s eyes glance around the crowd, scanning each individual in search of him but only finds more of those cloaked figures. They’re all dressed the same, sinister looking, and are scattered throughout the crowd. </p><p>This battle is far from over.</p><p>George begins wandering to the other side of the crowd, toward the castle however he doesn’t get far before colliding with somebody. Before George gets to apologise, something is slipped into his hand and by the time he looks up, they’re gone. He turns back frantically to see another figure scurrying away. He wonders what their deal is, but continues his way out of the crowd. As soon as he’s away, he lifts his hand to find a note. </p><p>
  <em>‘Meet us tomorrow at midnight. Alone. We’ll be waiting under the archway.’</em>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading this chapter! I'm not sure when the next will be out, but I'm hoping to start posting more consistently again now, so fingers crossed.</p><p>As per, if you spot any mistakes, please let me know!! It helps me out a lot ((:</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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